Culture Vulture: reviews round-up

The critics' verdicts on Martin Amis, Natasha Walter and Andrea Levy.

 

The Pregnant Widow by Martin Amis

Reviews of the much-hyped new Amis novel comment on its preoccupation with sex, coupled with multiple allusions to literary classics. Peter Kemp in the Sunday Times and Leo Robson in the New Statesman are in agreement over the decline of Amis's high stylisation, which has lost its "scabrous zest" (Kemp), while his "voice . . . lacks the power it had in earlier works" (Robson). The structure is also "ramshackle" (Kemp) and "ill-shapen, lopsided, rough-hewn" (Robson).

What comes out of all reviews of this novel is its place in the Amis canon: "The set-up, a house party in well-heeled surroundings, recalls the one in his second novel, Dead Babies (1975)," writes Kemp. Robson places the style and subject matter of the book in a continuum with Amis's previous novels: "The book represents a return to the social and psychological territory of The Rachel Papers (1973), Dead Babies (1975) and Success (1978) -- pitiless comic novels about youthful hedonism and self-loathing, suffused with what the latter two books called 'street sadness'."

Meanwhile, Tim Adams in the Observer describes the book as "a flashy Decameron of the sexual revolution". Tom Chatfield in Prospect sums up the plot and premise thus: "It is 1970, and we are holidaying in Italy in the company of an attractive and improbably named young cast." For both Adams and Chatfield, the novel is a "comedy of manners", and the overall consensus is that it is entertaining but highly flawed. Chatfield: "As ever, it is brilliantly done; as ever, it can be wearing."

 

Living Dolls: the Return of Sexism by Natasha Walter

Much is made of Natasha Walter's latest work being partly a retraction of her earlier book The New Feminism.

Cassandra Jardine in the Telegraph announces that "a recantation is always delicious", while Jessica Valenti in the Observer praises its return to the "personal". Valenti is impressed by Walter's dealings with sex workers and by her lack of judgement towards the young women she interviews. She stops short of an unqualified rave by suggesting that the book itself stops short: "The book's set-up and subtitle promise something that isn't delivered: the full story."

In the Sunday Times, Camilla Long berates Walter's lack of conclusion-drawing: "Half Grazia, half felt-knickered left-wing women's page, the book's biggest problem is its lack of solutions, or any prescriptive thinking."

"Living Dolls: the Return of Sexism" will be reviewed in Thursday's New Statesman.

 

The Long Song by Andrea Levy

Andrea Levy's follow-up to the Orange Prize-winning Small Island has provoked diametrically opposed opinions.

Holly Kyte in the Telegraph deems it "a masterclass in storytelling". Kyte finds the subject matter -- in this tale of "a slave girl living on a sugar plantation in 1830s Jamaica just as emancipation is juddering into action" -- sensitively handled: "Slavery is a grim subject indeed, but the wonder of Levy's writing is that she can confront such things and somehow derive deeply life-affirming entertainment from them."

Conversely, Tom Deveson in the Times finds the novel unconvincing: "It's difficult to sustain an antique narrative mode while keeping it plausible . . . Invocations to the reader amount to little more than pointless postmodern padding." He finds that "the book's language falls short of its admirable ambitions".

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Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

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